


Leave My Body

by canistakahari



Series: Halloween [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood, M/M, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones doesn't leave the house any more. (Halloween 2012)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave My Body

**Author's Note:**

> Please pay close attention to the fact that I chose not to use major archive warnings. I am trying not to spoil the story. If you need details or trigger warnings, click to the notes at the end of the fic.
> 
> Thanks to my lovely mackem for lightning-fast beta work and last-minute formatting help, daunt for plotting with me and giving me awesome ideas, and to starsandgraces for cheerleading. <3

Jim wakes up with dry mouth and blood under his fingernails.

 

His shoulders are sore and there are three voicemails and seven text messages from Bones all asking with escalating impatience and capslock where he’s been.

 

With a groan, and a dull pang of guilt, Jim presses 1 on speed dial.

 

“Oh thank god,” Bones says, an edge of terrified hysteria to his voice, picking up on the first ring. “I thought you were dead. Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to come over this morning.”

 

Jim comes over _every_ morning.

 

“I slept in,” says Jim, clearing his throat. It feels like he’s been screaming. “Sorry.”

 

Bones makes an unimpressed sub-vocal noise. “And here I am, all dressed up with nowhere to go.” Sarcasm. Bones’s native tongue.

 

“I need a shower,” says Jim, rubbing his eyes. The back of his mouth tastes metallic. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

 

“Fine,” says Bones. Jim can hear the palpable relief in his voice. “The least you can do is get me a coffee on the way.”

 

Bones hangs up and Jim just sighs into his pillow.

 

This is getting harder and harder.

 

oOo

 

“Did you see this?” says Bones, pushing the newspaper across the table at Jim.

 

Jim knows before looking what it’s going to be. It’s always the same. A perverse cycle of which they’re both unconsciously aware, drawing them into the repetition of conditioned behaviours with helpless fascination. “What?” he says wearily.

 

“Another killing,” says Bones. “Animal attack.” His eyes are wide and shadowed and there’s a tight set to his mouth that shows how unhappy he is. Jim hasn’t seen him smile in months and this would be a lot more worrying if Jim didn’t know exactly why.

 

There’s nothing either of them can do.

 

“Yeah,” says Jim.

 

“This is why I freak out when you disappear for hours,” says Bones tightly.

 

“I know,” says Jim, closing his eyes and pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I know.”

 

“If this ends up being you,” says Bones raggedly, stabbing at the article with a finger. “Jim, I don’t know what I’d—”

 

“Don’t,” says Jim. “It won’t. I promise. I just had my phone on silent. Don’t torture yourself imagining these completely ridiculous scenarios, Bones.”

 

Bones huffs, turning his face away, pink colouring his cheeks. “You forgot my coffee.”

 

“I know,” Jim says quietly. “Sorry.”

 

He can’t apologise enough.

 

oOo

 

 _The rain will help_ , thinks Jim. _The rain will wash away most of the blood_.

 

Maybe they won’t even find this one. Maybe for once, there won’t be an article in the paper, and Jim won’t have to see the fear and accusation in Bones’s wide dark eyes.

 

But it's the guilt that will kill him, in the end.

 

oOo

 

There’s no article in the paper.

 

“Maybe that’s the end of that, then,” says Bones, the paper spread out on the table in front of him. There’s some degree of relief in the slump of his shoulders, but he’s frowning, fretful, his fingers touching the newspaper like he can’t quite believe it.

 

Bones never remembers.

 

“Yeah,” says Jim and smiles. It’s fanciful, imagining the audible creak of his muscles as he forces his expression into something other than exhausted. “Hey. You want to do something today? Let me take you out.”

 

His wheedling tone has no effect. Bones goes cagey, uncomfortable, his gaze flickering to the closed blinds. “You know I can’t,” he says. Even now, he sounds apologetic.

 

“Even with me?” tries Jim. It never works.

 

Bones hasn’t been outside in a year.

 

oOo

 

“Are you sure, man?” asks the guy, frowning at Jim. “Here?”

 

“This is where he told me she’d be,” says Jim. He slides his hands into his pockets, curling his fingers into fists. There’s nothing in Jim but a sick pit of nausea. Every time he does this, he loses another piece of himself.

 

Pretty soon, there won’t be any salvageable pieces left. He’s running out of options.

 

“That bitch won’t know what hit her,” mutters the scumbag standing opposite him. “Been waiting for this. Thanks, man.”

 

On the other hand, it makes it easier, when they talk like that. He reminds himself he’s doing the world a service. Nobody will miss him. None of them are ever missed.

 

“Yeah,” says Jim, voice hollow. His nails are digging into the palm of his hand. “No problem.”

 

Overhead, the moon rises, and Jim steels himself.

 

oOo

 

There’s so much blood. Jim never knew how much blood the human body contained, until everything changed.

 

In the early hours of the morning, Jim moves the body.

 

He washes his hands in the bathroom of a Denny’s and goes back to his apartment. There’s too much adrenaline pumping through him to sleep, so he cleans and vacuums and does his laundry, and Bones calls him at nine on the dot.

 

“Good morning, star shine,” says Jim. “What do you want to eat?”

 

“Don’t talk to me about food,” groans Bones. “I just spent the last hour throwing up. Maybe you shouldn’t come over.”

 

“How is it even possible for you to come down with something?” demands Jim, brows furrowing, the cold chill of fear settling in his gut. “You don’t go outside. And I’m never sick. I didn’t give it to you.”

 

“Maybe it’s a stomach bug,” mumbles Bones. He sounds like death. “I ordered pizza last night.”

 

“I’m coming over,” declares Jim. “I’ll bring you tea and ginger ale and stuff.” He hesitates. “Do you want the paper?”

 

“No,” says Bones. “If I read about anything upsetting, it’ll just make the revolt my stomach is staging even worse.”

 

“Okay,” says Jim softly. “I’ll be there in half an hour. Sit tight.”

 

oOo

 

Bones’s skin is hot and his eyes are glassy and Jim spends the whole day feeding him soup and flat ginger ale and petting his hair.

 

He has to deal with it, he thinks, after Bones has drifted into a feverish sleep.

 

Because he’s all Bones has.

 

oOo

 

The next guy is a real piece of work, a total blight on humanity, but the newspaper article when they finally find the mutilated body talks about the guy’s two young kids and Jim goes to the bathroom and throws up into the toilet until he’s just spitting bile, imagining it’s the rust-coloured swirl of blood as Jim had dumped the body into a sewer drain.

 

“I can’t do this,” he tells himself in the mirror, his eyes bloodshot. “I can’t do this anymore. This is killing me.”

 

The phone rings. It’s Bones. Jim goes to him and that night he kisses him for the first time since the accident and Bones moans into his mouth and trembles and Jim can almost forget.

 

Almost.

 

oOo

 

Jim tries to keep going. For Bones, because he doesn’t know what Bones will do without him.

 

For a while, it works. For a few months, he just goes through the motions. Cleans up the blood. Brings Bones breakfast.

 

Then, finally, he makes a mistake. It was bound to happen.

 

“You’re not who I spoke to on the phone,” Jim says to the girl, numb shock infusing his limbs. Oh god. Oh _god_. He is so fucked.

 

“No,” says the girl. She looks bored, like this happens a lot. “Billy sent me to give you something? I’ve got it here.” She pats her purse. “But he said to make sure I get the money first.”

 

“You need to get out of here,” says Jim. He takes an urgent step forward and the girl takes a step back, her expression hardening.

 

“Hey,” she says. “You can do the deal with me. I’m not leaving without the money.”

 

Jim doesn’t have the money. Jim needs to get her out of here because the moon is almost up.

 

“Deal’s off,” he says. “Now get out of here before you get hurt.” He doesn’t know who this girl is. He doesn’t know if she deserves to die.

 

“Are you threatening me?” she demands.

 

“No,” says Jim. “I need you to leave. Right now. I’m not armed.” He holds up empty hands. “Please.”

 

“What the hell is your damage?” she snaps. “We had a deal!”

 

Panic floods him, quick and debilitating. If he doesn’t get her out of here quick, they’re both going to die.

 

“Come with me,” he tries. “Let’s do this somewhere else.”

 

“Buddy,” says the girl, her voice dripping with contempt, “you are fucked if you think I’m going anywhere with you. Give me the money and you get your drugs. Fucking tweaker.”

 

The moon’s up. Any second now.

 

In the distance, there’s a howl.

 

The girl looks around. “What the hell was that?” she whispers.

 

“You need to get out of here,” Jim says through gritted teeth. “Now.”

 

“Yeah,” says the girl in a low voice. “Fine. Don’t contact us again.” She turns around and hurries away in the direction she came.

 

Behind Jim, there’s a growl. Jim’s stomach drops out.

 

Very slowly, he turns around.

 

“Hey buddy,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to happen.” He imagines Bones reading about him in the paper tomorrow and tears fill his eyes. Then again, how will Bones read the paper if Jim doesn’t bring it to him? What is Bones going to do without him?

 

Bones will never know. Bones will never know. Jim can finally stop. Everything can finally stop. He is so selfish.

 

The creature hulking in the darkness pads closer, burning eyes cutting through the darkness.

 

Jim isn’t usually around for this part. He sets up the victims and cleans up the mess. That’s how it’s been since the accident.

 

Bones growls again, white teeth bared, advancing on Jim. He’s beautiful. Ink-black fur, sharp green eyes, long, pointed muzzle.

 

Jim takes a step back and that’s when Bones leaps, paws hitting him hard in the chest, knocking Jim to the ground. Winded, he turns his head to the side, baring his throat in submission.

 

This is it. He’s done. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Do it.”

 

Teeth close around his neck, a gentle press, and Jim closes his eyes.

 

A year ago, Bones was attacked in the park, late at night. He doesn’t go outside any more.

 

Except when he does.

 

**Happy Halloween!**

**Author's Note:**

> Implied character death. Trigger warning for a male character briefly talking about violence he'd like to commit against a female character.


End file.
